In A Different World
by Baka-Pandy
Summary: What if he wasn't completely alone? What if there was someone...
1. Prologue

**Prologue:**

"He's so small...so he was premature?"

"He's adapting. Finally the third child is compatible. He must be brought up with care."

"My baby...let me see my baby's face...what's this...he's so tiny..."

"The Lady's heart rate is dropping."


	2. Chapter 1: A New Friend

**PLEASE READ BEFORE JUDGEMENT**

**Hi all, welcome to my first fanfiction. To those of who you may possibly remember me posting this, I'm just reposting with some more edits. To those of you who are new, bear with me for a few lines of housekeeping. So basically, this story of mine has been going to for years but I never gained the courage to show anyone. Why? Because it is a blatant weaboo/otaku/fangirl move. It's a Gaara X OC fanfiction. And guess who the OC was? You got it, yours truly. But hey, it got me writing, which I was, and still am, absolutely crap at. Anyway, over the years I've become less obsessed, but Gaara will forever and always hold a special place in my heart. (For those of you keeping up with the anime/manga. Those scenes with Gaara and his father made me cry. I'm a legal adult, by the way.) So I thought I'd finally share this to the public and personally keep it as a memento of the embarrassing days of my life. **

**The story's plotline follows closely with the anime/manga. Much of the dialogue was taken directly from the translations. The one thing I did pride my past self in was my staunch adherence to the canon. I hated, and still strongly dislike, when the character personalities were skewed beyond repair. Because seriously, how exactly is it plausible for a blood-thirsty killer like Gaara to suddenly barf rainbows of love and affection just because a pretty face smiled at him? It took Naruto nearly killing himself to get Gaara to understand love and friendship. So yes, this fanfiction is going to move incredibly slowly because it starts from the very beginning. If you're looking for a quick and dirty romance, you will not find it here.**

**Now that I have bored you to death with a disclaimer that will hopefully make me seem like less of a dork, please enjoy the musings of a fangirl.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: A New Friend**

The setting sun wavered in the desert heat as it sent streaks of orange, pink, and purple through the darkening sky. In the midst of the dunes rose a village; a web of plateaus and artfully carved rock formations in the shape of buildings. At the end of a weaving road was a group of children, revolving and scrambling around a little red ball. Shouts of urgency rang through the quiet village, bouncing and resonating off the sides of nearby buildings, as they raced to finish their game before the light vanished. A brunette girl, her long hair pulled tightly back into a ponytail, had possession. One more goal, and the scrimmage would be over…

_A good ways from the lot was a single swing set. Upon one of the swings, hidden in the shadows, was a thin red-headed boy. In one hand he gripped the swing's metal chain; the other tightly clutched a well-worn stuffed bear. His eyes were an odd misty blue and heavily ringed with dark shadows, a peculiar feature for a 6 year old child. His expression held none of the mirth a child should have, but instead had the image of a forlorn and sad creature. From beneath his copper fringe, he watched the other children laugh and play, longing more than anything to join them. But he knew that he couldn't, they would run away, like everyone else in the village. They had reason to, he was dangerous, a monster, a weapon. People had every right to fear him. But even knowing this, the boy was lonely. He clutched his stuffed bear tighter, as if it were an anchor, and continued to wistfully observe game…_

...The girl held her tongue between her uneven teeth as she aimed the ball carefully. Then, with a great cry, she swung her foot with all her might. Nearly toppling backwards, she watched as the red sphere soared higher and higher above the heads of her teammates and opponents alike and towards the opposite team's goal. But, instead of hitting the net, the ball flew right over the top of the goal frame and landed on the roof of the neighboring building…

_The little boy's eyes widened in awe as the sphere streaked through air, high above the other children's heads before coming to a rest on the roof of the nearby building…_

…The children all raced to the base of the building, the stunned silence among them soon broken by loud groans of disappointment and complaints. None of them had the skill to retrieve the ball.

_He watched as the other children grumbled and groused at their disrupted game. His young mind was in turmoil, with decisions and consequences swirling in disorganization. Taking one more glance at the children, he made a choice and abandoned his perch on the swing…_

…A sudden gasp and a shout of surprise caused the complaining children to return their attention to the stranded ball. A cloud of sand had materialized around it, lifting it up and off the roof. It slowly carried the ball downwards, and came to a rest in the arms of a red-headed boy. Caressing the ball as if it were a baby, the boy glanced quickly between it and the children nervously. They stared at him frozen in shock. Then, taking a deep breath, he thrust the toy out towards the other children.

"Here…" he said quietly from between his outstretched arms. Instantly, as if broken from a spell, the children's eyes all widened in fear and recognition. Panic soon began to fill the atmosphere.

"It's him…"

"Gaara…"

'Sabaku no…Gaara…"

They began to back away slowly in terror, as if trying to escape an enormous beast. The little boy's face fell in disappointment to their reaction.

"Please," he whispered as he watched them retreat, "don't leave me…don't go…" his voice hitched slightly at the end in a half sob. Soon enough, when they felt that they were at a safe distance, the children broke into frantic runs. "Don't go…please…" the boy continued to plead softly as his last chance to end the loneliness slipped from his grasp. Then in a wail of despair, he screamed "I DON'T WANT TO BE ALONE ANYMORE!" He stretched out an arm, reaching towards the fleeing children. A streak of sand burst from behind him, and flew towards them. Long tendrils of rough grains wrapped around the ankles of those closest to it, dragging the struggling children towards the boy. They screamed in absolute terror as their finger nails gouged the ground, reaching for anything to escape

The children were frantic. So much so, that they had not heard the little boy's despairing plea. All, except one. The moment the desolate cry had split the air, the movements of one little girl hesitated. But that one pause, that one glance back, caused her to suddenly stay rooted in her spot. Terror screamed at her to run, to flee back to the safety of her home, but the sight of the boy, head bent as if he were sobbing while the other children screamed and tried to get away, lit a small spark of pity. The girl was still young, a mere six years old, as well as a new comer to the village. She had not grown up knowing the danger and horror of the Weapon of Sunagakure, only hearing rumors of the mysterious boy for the first time that day when she had joined the group of ball playing children. But they had only called him a monster, said he was scary. In her frozen state, she took a closer look at him out of simple curiosity. Certainly, the strange grabbing sand was terrifying, but the boy himself was in no way scary or monstrous. He simply looked miserable, and lonely. The last thought was replaced with horror as she watched a sudden giant wave of sand loom above the head of the pony-tailed girl who had kicked the ball onto the roof. The girl's eyes widened in fright as the sand lunged. There was a loud crash as the sand hit a solid body; the sand immediately began to dissipate. The girl sat cowering on the ground, shaken but unharmed. Before her stood a young man, his arms, now bruised and scratched, held up in a protective cross. A couple of moments later, he lowered his arms slightly, and said in a gentle voice,

"Please, Gaara-sama…calm down…" The boy's eyes widened at the man, then fell to his feet in shame.

"Yashamaru…" he whispered in quiet recognition. The sand around him fell lifelessly to the ground, releasing the terrified children, who all then proceeded to scramble to their feet as fast as they could and ran. There was no one left in the lot except for the mysterious boy named Gaara, the equally mysterious man named Yashamaru, and the little girl, who stood unnoticed by the first two. The man named Yashamaru did not approach the boy as if he too was wary of him. The girl on the other hand, remained frozen in terror. But the boy no longer appeared dangerous. The three stood in silence. Moments passed without Gaara doing anything besides staring at his feet. Gradually, fear loosened its grip over the girl. Feeling that it was safe; the girl had turned to hopefully slip away unnoticed, and blissfully alive, when suddenly a thought occurred to her naïve mind. _Maybe, if he had friend, the sand won't be scary anymore._ She glanced back at Gaara, deliberating. _What if he didn't want to be my friend? What if the sand grabbed me too?_ Screwing up the remaining bits of her courage, she took tentative wary steps towards the boy. He did not notice her approach, but the man named Yashamaru had. His gaze burned into the side of her head as he moved to stop her. But before he could move a finger, the girl took a deep breath and asked in a small voice,

"U-um…Are you…Gaara-kun?" the boy's head snapped up so fast it looked painful. His eyes that were filled with shame and pain were instantly replaced by shock. The heavy shadows around the light blue orbs surprised the girl, having not seen his face earlier. Gazing in wonder at his eyes she said in a low mumble, "I-I'm Shiheki…Fuon Shiheki...and I…" Embarrassment bloomed on her face at the words forming from her mouth. Looking away quickly, with her face bright red, she continued weakly, "and I…um…wanted to know if…you…you wanted to…to be…friends…" She exhaled heavily when she finished. When there was no immediate reply, she glanced up at him. Gaara was staring at her in astonishment, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, unable to speak. Shiheki took the silence as denial and hastily waved her hands in front of her, her face redder than ever, "But, um, you don't have to if you don't want to!" She panicked and prayed the sand wouldn't hurt her. "Um, I think I'll go now!" She turned quickly to bolt back home, when suddenly, she felt something curl around her ankle. Shiheki froze and looked down in fright. A rope of sand had wrapped itself around her just as it done with the captured children from before. But the sand never tightened, it merely continued to swirl gently around her ankle, tickling her skin.

"Wait…" said an oddly deep yet soft voice from behind her. Shiheki glanced over her shoulder. Gaara stood with his hand stretched partly towards her. "Don't go…" he went on, "I want to be your friend…" This time Shiheki gaped in shock before she blushed again. After a moment, she smiled tentatively.

"O-ok." she replied. The sand melted away. There was an awkward silence and Shiheki glanced at the sky. Seeing the dark blues and purples she gasped. "Oh no!" She exclaimed as she looked back at Gaara, who seemed startled by her sudden change in demeanor. "I'm sorry! I need to go home! It's already really late and if I don't get back now, my parents will get really mad." She smiled at him sheepishly, "I guess I'll see you later, Gaara-kun." She turned and raced in the direction of her house. She waved good bye one more time before disappearing around the corner. Gaara watched her go, but the usual feeling of disappointment and loneliness was not there, because he knew she was not running in away from him in fear. A small smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

Yashamaru stared at his nephew, stunned. No child of the village would have ever gone anywhere near Gaara. And yet this girl had approached him. But the result of the encounter with the girl had been even more unexpected. Yashamaru had been fully prepared to be the one to tell the girl's family the grieving news of her death. But she had actually _made friends_ with him. He observed Gaara thoughtfully. The Kazekage had mentioned at some point that a new couple of medical ninja had just recently transferred to the village. _She must be their child,_ he thought, _she has no idea what she has put herself into._ He glanced again at his nephew. _He's been moved. He's a bit different now. I wonder how long this will last…_

The moment she burst through the door, Shiheki spilled out apology after apology as she gasped for much needed breath. Her parents appeared almost immediately, asking her questions with voices thick with concern.

"Where have you been?" Her father demanded, adjusting his glasses.

"Why did you come back so late? You know how dangerous it is to be out at night!" reprimanded her mother.

"I said I'm sorry!" Shiheki pleaded. "It's just that…I made a new friend and I kind of lost track of time when I was saying good bye to him…"

"Oh?" her mother queried, "And who is this new friend?" Her father, on the other hand, took another approach.

"Him?" He inquired quizzically. Shiheki huffed.

"His name is Gaara. He's really nice." She continued. Both of her parents' eyes widened and glanced at each other quickly in worry. Not knowing what to say to their daughter, they sat in silence for few moments. Shiheki's mouth split into a wide yawn.

"Sweetie," her mother started quietly in a guarded voice, "why don't you go to bed now, it's late." Shiheki nodded sleepily, not noticing the change in tone.

"G'night" She mumbled and left.

"Gaara…" the woman said as her daughter disappeared through the doorway of the living room and into the hallway. "She can't mean…" They had only heard rumors of the demon possessed boy, horrible rumors of his powers and his bloodlust. Her husband looked grave. His jaw set stiffly as he thought in silence before he finally said,

"We must consult Kazekage-sama of this…"


	3. Chapter 2: Wound of the Heart

**Chapter 2: Wound of the Heart**

That night, little Gaara stood by his window, staring at his semi-transparent reflection. In his hand he held a short knife as memories of the children running away replayed continuously in his head. Their terrified faces haunted him. The hand around the handle of the knife tightened. Clenching his jaw, Gaara positioned the edge of the blade to his wrist. The blade just barely touched his skin before a flare of sand exploded from the pale surface, preventing the sharp edge from ever reaching its target. "It's no use…" he said to himself as he repeatedly tried to inflict harm to his wrist, only to be thwarted. "The sand always interferes…" The sand melded back into his skin.

"Gaara-sama," came a voice from behind him. Gaara gasped slightly and spun around; Yashamaru stood at the door. The young man's forearms and head were wrapped heavily in bandages, the result of him intercepting Gaara's attack from earlier in the day.

"Yashamaru…" Gaara answered, staring at the bandages. Yashamaru smiled slightly,

"I was ordered by Kazekage-sama to be your caretaker, to keep an eye on you and to protect you. So please, don't do something like that in front of me." Gaara looked away in shame. "But yet again," Yashamaru's smile widened a bit, "the sand will protect you." Gaara's gaze returned to his uncle. After a moment of silence he said,

"I'm sorry, Yashamaru…" There was a light chuckle in response.

"Oh this?" Yashamaru replied, gesturing to his bandages. "It's just a scratch." He continued to smile warmly. There was another moment of silence. Then,

"Do wounds hurt?" came the innocent query.

"Just a little" was the reply, "it'll heal quickly though."

"Um, Yashamaru…" Gaara began again.

"Yes?"

"What does pain feel like?" The blond young man looked at his nephew in surprise at the unusual question. "I've never been hurt before" Gaara clarified, "so…I was just wondering what it felt like…" His uncle stared at him thoughtfully.

"Hm…How should I explain this? Well, it can be really uncomfortable, if not unbearable." His lips turned slightly in concentration. "Like, when someone is shot or hurt, he becomes very ill at ease and can't think normally." A sheepish smiled appeared. "I can't really explain it very well, but simply put, it's not a very good condition to be in." As he listened, Gaara's eyes wandered back to the bandages.

"Yashamaru?" He asked again.

"Yes?" Gaara looked away again, staring sadly at his feet, "Then…do you hate me?" Yashamaru's smile faltered briefly at the questioned, but quickly reappeared.

"Gaara-sama, people hurt each other and get hurt during their lifetime, but it's difficult to hate another." Gaara smiled at the response.

"Thanks, Yashamaru, I think I know what pain is now!"

"Really?" Yashamaru blinked, slightly bewildered. He stared at the little boy, worried.

"Yeah," Gaara replied "I think I'm injured too, just like everyone else." His hand drifted to his chest and gripped the fabric of his clothes, just over his heart. "I'm not bleeding…but my chest really hurts right here…" Yashamaru gazed sadly at him. He then walked towards his nephew, crouching down until he was at eye level with him. He took the short knife from Gaara hand, and then, with a quick stroke, slit a small cut on his own ring finger. Gaara gasped in shock, his heavily shadowed eyes wide with horror. The small cut began to ooze, glistening red beads of blood.

"Flesh wounds bleed," Yashamaru stated as a thin stream a blood trailed down his hand. "and they may seem painful, but, as time goes by, the pain would eventually disappear and the wound would heal. And if you use medicine, it would heal even faster. But," he pointed to his heart, "the difficult ones are the wounds in the heart." Gaara gazed at his uncle, clearly confused.

"A wound in the heart?" he repeated. Yashamaru nodded.

"A wound in the heart," he continued, "is different from a flesh wound. Unlike flesh wounds, there are no ointments to heal it, and sometimes, they don't even heal at all." Gaara's eyes fell to the ground once again; his hand still clutched on his chest. Disappointment was written all over his face. "But, there is one thing that can heal a wound in the heart…" Gaara looked back up instantly, alert. "It's a troublesome medicine; you can only get it from another person." Yashamaru paused, his gaze wandered slowly to a picture frame that rested on the ledge of the nearby window. The woman had light golden brown hair that fell in soft layers around her face. A small contented smile curved her lips as she gazed gently from the simply decorated frame.

"What…?" Gaara asked suddenly, his voice thick with desperation. "What can I do to heal this…?" Yashamaru merely gazed thoughtfully out the window, as if he had not heard the pleading question. A moment of silence, and then he began,

"Gaara-sama, what…what did you feel when that girl ask to be your friend?" Little Gaara gave his uncle a confused look at the sudden seemingly irrelevant question, but gave it a bit of thought before he answered tentatively,

"Well…this odd feeling filled my whole body…one that I've never had before…I can't really describe if but…I actually kind of liked it…so I guess it was a good feeling…" he shook his head, "but I don't see how this has to do with the cure for this…this…" he trailed off. Yashamaru continued to stare thoughtfully out the window.

"The certain something that can cure a wound like yours," Yashamaru shifted his gaze so that he met Gaara's alert expression from the corner of his eyes, "is love."

"Love?" Gaara repeated, letting the unfamiliar word roll off his tongue.

"Love." Yashmaru confirmed. Staring up at his uncle with large pleading eyes, Gaara asked urgently,

"W-where can I get this…this…love? How can I get rid of this pain?"

"Gaara-sama," Yashamaru replied calmly with another small smile, "you have already received it." His eyes drifted back to the picture by the window. "Love," he continued, "is the spirit of devoting yourself to someone important and close to you. It is expressed by caring for and protecting that person." He shifted his gaze to meet Gaara's. "What you felt for that girl was a friendship's love." Yashamaru grinned, then added, "And who knows? That mere friendship's love may bloom into something more." Gaara smiled at the comment, despite not having grasped the full meaning of his uncle's words. An image of the girl's grinning face flickered through his mind. In the moment of silence, Yashamaru's eyes once again roamed to the picture of the woman.

"And my sister," he started again, "I believe my sister always loved you, Gaara-sama. Suna no Shukaku is a living soul used for combat purposes, but the wielder is protected by sand. I believe it protects you out of love, your mother's love. My sister wanted to protect you, even after her death." Together they gazed at the picture in silence. Then, Gaara faced his uncle and said,

"Yashamaru…"

"Yes?" came the reply.

"Thanks…for stopping me…back there…" Yashamaru smiled and popped the lightly bleeding finger into his mouth.

"No problem. You are someone I care about after all, Gaara-sama."

Gaara reached out tentatively and pulled his uncle's finger out of his mouth. He watched as a single bead of blood oozed out of the slit, then put the finger into his own mouth. Yashamaru watched with sad eyes.

The blood leaked from the cut and onto Gaara's tongue. He pulled the finger out of his mouth. _It tastes like metal…_Moments passed. Suddenly, an idea popped into little Gaara's head. Excited, he asked eagerly,

"Hey Yashamaru?"

"Hmm?"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Anything, Gaara-sama."

"Can I have some ointment?" Yashamaru looked at his nephew, slighted surprised, then agreed. He gave the boy a small paper bag. Within it were a few bottles ointment. Little Gaara clutched the paper bag is if it contained the most precious treasure in the world. He raced out the door and, without another backward glance, took off into the night.


	4. Chapter 3: Betrayal

**Chapter 3: Betrayal**

The dark streets were deserted as Gaara raced through the village. Save for the desert wind that howled in the distance, the dead silence was only broken by the pattering of his feet and his heavy breathing. He ran continuously to his destination, a look of hopeful happiness painted on his face. Finally, he stopped in front of a house and ascended the stairs that led to a door that loomed almost overbearingly in front of him. He hesitated a moment, then knocked. The thick barrier opened a small crack to reveal the apprehensive eyes of the pony-tailed girl who had kicked the ball onto the roof. Her eye widened with shock when she recognized her unexpected visitor. Gaara smiled shyly, then said,

"Um…I'm sorry about before…It probably hurt, right?" He held up the paper bag. "Here, this is some ointment." The girl's horrified expression had not changed. Gaara's voice began to falter. "You…you can use it if you want–"

"Go home." She said suddenly, cutting him off. Then she disappeared and slammed the heavy door into his shocked face with a resonating bang. "Monster!" came one last yell, muffled by the thick door.

Gaara stared wide-eyed and speechless at the entrance, his face sheet white. His quivering hands dropped the paper bag to the ground, and fell limply to his sides. Then, as if in a trance, he slowly turned and walked off the threshold.

He dragged his feet down the quiet road, eyes hidden beneath copper locks. Further down the street, a drunken man lumbered his way in Gaara's direction. In his intoxicated stupor, he inadvertently bumped into him, causing him to stop. "What the…" the man grunted. Gaara didn't move. "Watch where you're going!" He slurred, brandishing his half empty bottle. "Stupid kid." He muttered as turned to continue his lumbering before realizing his mistake. He did a double take at the boy and froze in horror. Gaara watched the man out of the corner of his eyes as fear engulfed the man's expression.

_ Again…_ Gaara thought. The image of the pony-tailed girl's horrified face appeared in his mind.

_"Go home." She had said. "Monster!"_

_ Those eyes again…Why…? Why?!_

"Y-You're…" Sand appeared as the man stuttered. "H-hey…" he never finished. There was a shatter of glass as the man's drink fell to the ground. His earsplitting scream that followed afterwards pierced the atmosphere. Gaara continued his walk down the street.

"What? What happened?" People quickly spilled out onto the road, voices humming in confusion.

"It's Gaara…" One man whispered as he looked down the road to see Gaara's retreating form.

"H-Hey! This man…he's dead!" Another said, indicating the body sprawled on the ground.

Little Gaara didn't stop when people trickled into the streets. He continued walking, only to pause before a man who leaned against the pillar of a nearby building. _Father…_Gaara thought. He glanced up at the disapproving face of the man from beneath his bangs, then looked away and resumed his miserable stroll.

Yashamaru stared at the looming door before him uncertain as to what he will face. The Kazekage, his brother-in-law, had asked to talk to him after the council meeting; he didn't know about what, but he knew it would be about his nephew. He took a deep breath and raised a hand to knock. He hesitated briefly before he gently rapped his knuckles against the thick door. A deep "Enter" resonated from the other side. Brushing a few stray strands of honey blond hair from his face, he opened the door. The Kazekage stood by one of the windows, gazing pensively at the dark village.

"You wanted to speak to me, Kazekage-sama?" The Kazekage turned.

"You heard what the council said didn't you." He said. Yashamaru gazed blandly at his brother-in-law. "That boy is a failure." Yashamaru remained silent. The Kazekage shot him a sharp look at the still mute response. He then returned to staring out the window. "Gaara must be eliminated." At this, Yashamaru's eyes widened. Taking a couple of steps towards the village leader, he finally spoke,

"But…Gaara-sama is just a child…"

"I have determined the truth worth of many things in my life." The Kazekage said without looking at him. "…I still haven't decided _his_ true worth. I'll weigh his value to us tomorrow. Your job is to test him." Yashamaru held his breath apprehensively. "After evacuating the villagers you are to corner Gaara." Finally he turned his head slightly, and looked at Yashamaru over his shoulder. "Speak of his mother, provoke him emotionally. If he doesn't lost control even then, I shall refrain from having him dealt with."

Yashamaru hesitated with his reply. "My…sister…? Are…are you sure that's wise, sir?" The response was delayed as the Kazekage gazed at his brother-in-law from the corner of his eye.

"I am aware that he adores Karura, his mother. That is why, as a jinchuuriki…he must be able to withstand even that loss!" Yashamaru gaped slightly in shock. To use his sister's name to deceive her own son, it was horrid, cruel. The village leader, turned back to face him and leered down at him imperiously.

"So? What is your answer?" Yashamaru hesitated.

"I'll do it."

Gaara sat on the roof of his house, staring blankly at his palms. _It didn't go well…_he thought as he recalled his attempt to apologize to the pony-tailed girl. _Why am I the only one who is a monster…?_ He buried his face into his hands. _What am I…? _He remembered his conversation with Yashmaru.

_"The thing that can heal a wound of the heart…is love."_

_ Yashamaru…_Gaara sobbed, gripping his chest, as the image of Yashamaru melted away.

Tears continued to stream down his face when there was a sudden movement behind him. Before he could react, a barrier of sand exploded from the ground, protecting his back. Gaara's head snapped up in shock and he whirled around to face the source of the attack. A few kunai clattered to the ground as the sand barrier shifted to reveal the assailant. A masked shinobi stared back at him, his face indiscernible in the dark of the night. Gaara let out another tiny sob. _What…?_ He thought angrily. _Why…why do I...why am I the only who has to go through all this?! _He stood up instantly as his despair transformed to rage and faced the nameless shinobi head on. At that moment, the ninja launched another attack of kunai. The pieces of metal were swatted away like annoying flies by an arm of sand. Gaara then reached out an arm, and clawed at the air in the direction of the ninja. The limb of sand shot towards and wrapped itself around the shinobi's body, bringing him up into the air. The mysterious man struggled against the bonds, but to no avail. Gaara then grasped the air, hand tightening into a fist. The sand around the body instantly contracted in response. There was sickening crack, followed by an explosion of blood. The man fell limply to the floor in a pool of crimson.

Then, as if only just realizing what he had done, little Gaara's eyes widened in horror. "W-who are you…?" He stammered. "W-why…? His eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar bandage wrapped securely on the man's ring finger. They widened even further. _It can't be…_ A lump caught in his throat at the conclusion that formed in his mind. He swallowed hard and hesitantly approached the broken body. The man was barely alive; his chest rose and fell in miniscule movements. With a shaking hand, the demon possessed boy grasped the veil that hid the man's identity. The fabric fell away easily with a light tug. As the face that appeared confirmed all of his suspicions, Gaara couldn't help but shake even more. At his feet, drenched in blood, was his uncle Yashamaru.


End file.
